


As It Began

by TheNightComesDown



Category: Bohemian Rhapsody (Movie 2018), Queen (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Fae & Fairies, Gen, Queen AU, Queen Fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-03
Updated: 2019-05-03
Packaged: 2020-02-16 12:53:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,525
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18691879
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheNightComesDown/pseuds/TheNightComesDown
Summary: Brian has a strange encounter with nature on his evening off.





	As It Began

**Author's Note:**

> So this isn't really like any of the fics I've done before because it's not focused on a relationship, but I thought it would be a fun little one-shot because Brian is so into nature and protecting the environment. I do have a possible second part in mind if people are into it, but don't intend on making it a series or anything.

After spending all morning cooped up in the studio, Brian needed to get out for some fresh air. He politely declined John’s offer of spending dinner with him and his girlfriend, and not so politely declined Roger’s suggestion that they get legless at the pub down the road from their flat. Brian knew that the best thing he could do for himself, and for his song writing, was to take a walk through someplace green. He had never minded the bustling London atmosphere, but sometimes, he believed, one needed to get out into nature and breathe in the organic scents of the earth. Roger thought that was a namby-pamby load of bollocks, but he knew better than to say that to his best friend.

“Don’t stay out too late, darling,” Freddie warned him on his way out the door. “You never know what’s out in the woods after dark.” Brian rolled his eyes at his friend’s superstitious comment, but promised to be careful – he didn’t have any interest in getting murdered by some strange forest-dwelling hermit, or whatever danger Freddie might imagine creeping around in the darkness. 

Knowing he had plenty of time before sundown, Brian decided on a nature park in London, known for its aged trees and complex ecosystems. It had been an old haunt of his as a teen, in the days when he longed for nothing more than to climb into the boughs of a tree and disappear from the hungry eyes of the bullies that roamed his neighbourhood in search of lanky boys to prey upon. 

He parked his car on the edge of the road and meandered along a familiar walking path. Rocks overgrown with moss lined the trail, which was groomed not by the city parks employees, but by avid explorers and wanderers like himself that dedicated their after-work hours to the upkeep of such sacred places. Every so often, an overhanging branch would snag itself in his curly mop, and he’d be forced to stop and detach himself, or risk losing a chunk of hair to the tree. 

After walking along for a half hour or so, Brian found himself in a quiet wooded grove surrounding a small pond, whose cerulean waters were still but for the skimming of tiny insects along its surface. Biting his lip thoughtfully, he searched for the perfect tree to sit against. The tree in question revealed itself to him when a beam of sunlight cut through the carpet of leaves hanging above it, colouring the withered bark a mellow tan-gold. 

“This will do nicely,” Brian said decidedly, parking himself at the base of the tree. Its roots crept out from beneath it at such an angle that he was able to use them as armrests. The grass and leaf-covered ground provided a cushion of sorts, so his tailbone wouldn’t hurt unless he sat there for hours on end. Brian pulled out his leather-bound notebook, a birthday gift he’d received from Roger nearly a year ago, and opened it to the page he’d left off on. 

He glanced over the words he’d been struggling to pen for the last week or so. Queen’s first album had been completely written, recorded and mixed for weeks, but because of some hold-up with the record label, they wouldn’t see it released for another few months _at least_. It was an incredible frustration to them all, and had really done a number on Brian’s interest in writing. He could hear the notes and chords; entire sections of music existed in his head that he wanted to play, but no matter how much focus he put into it, he couldn’t find the words he was searching for. 

“Come on, Bri,” he groaned, leaning his head back against the tree’s thick trunk. “You’re not an idiot…this should be so easy.” With a sigh, he tucked his pencil behind his ear and began to flip through his notebook. He’d written hundreds of lines of lyrics, some pages long, and others just little snippets he’d come up with in the supermarket line, or standing beneath the steaming water in the shower. He read and reread everything, hoping for even a single word that fit the ditty weaving through his mind, but nothing seemed to do it justice. 

“Stupid,” he huffed, snapping his notebook shut. He’d forgotten his glasses on the mixing desk at the studio, and foolishly told himself he’d be fine without them. After less than half an hour, though, the soothing warmth of the late afternoon and the energy it took to read his own writing clearly had tuckered him right out. Glancing down at his watch and stifling a yawn, he figured it wouldn’t hurt to rest his eyes for a bit. He’d slept well enough the night before, so there was no way he would fall asleep. 

“That’ll get me going in the right direction,” he smiled, folding his arms over his chest. “Just have to rest my eyes for a few minutes.” Almost as soon as he’d closed his eyes, though, he was asleep. His body stayed upright, lovingly supported by the tree he’d settled up against. The minute hand continued its slow revolution around the face of his watch, but not once did Brian stir until the sun had descended below the horizon, leaving him alone in the darkness of the forest glade. 

* * * * * 

With a sharp inhale Brian shook himself awake. The air had grown chilly without the light of the sun to warm it, leaving Brian to shiver in his trousers and t-shirt. He glanced around, frowning as he tried to recall where he was, and why he might be there. With shaky legs, he attempted to stand, but found that his body had been still for so long that it needed a minute to regain its proper function. 

Although he’d thought he was in complete darkness at first, he realized after a moment that the light of the moon was filtering down through the leaves and onto the pond, illuminating its gently rippling surface. The gentle breeze rustled the leaves around him, mimicking the sound of skin rubbing against skin. Brian blinked hard, clearing the haze of sleep from his vision so he could get his bearings and find his way back to the car. If it were only a bit brighter, he thought, I might be able to tell how long I’ve been asleep. 

Once he’d adjusted to the idea of being conscious again, Brian realized that he was hearing and smelling things he’d never sensed before. In the sunlight, he had been so focused on the greens of leaves and the blues of sky and water that he’d missed out on so much else. He pressed his hands into the damp earth blanketing the tree’s roots, and felt the squelch of loamy soil between his fingers. Tree bark, he discovered, had a smell separate from the dirt and leaves around it. _These_ were the feelings he’d been searching for earlier, the hard-to-describe sensations of existing in the same place and time as the natural world. Now all he needed was to scribble them down before he forgot them. 

Finally scrambling to his feet, Brian picked his way across the grove, avoiding the tripping hazards of roots and stones as best he could. He’d almost reached the head of the walking path when he heard the soft, melodic voice call out behind him. 

“Do you have to go so soon?” 

Brian whipped around, scanning his surroundings for the source of the voice. From what he had seen, there hadn’t been anyone else in the vicinity. There was no way that voice had been a trick of the wind, he knew; someone else, a girl, was there. 

“Hello?” he yelled, flinching at the volume of his own voice in the quiet night. Brian hoped he hadn’t frightened any little critters that might call the area home, or scared the girl he’d heart moments before. “Please, I’m not going to hurt you.” His eyes flickered back and forth across the grove, searching for any signs of movement. If he had been looking in exactly the right place, though, he still would never have seen her until she was ready for him to. 

From between two trees on the other side of the pond, a dazzling, dark-eyed woman emerged, clad only in moonlight. Brian averted his eyes at first, surprised by both her lack of clothing, and the way the moon shimmered and reflected off her dark skin as it did the water of the pond. When she came closer, however, he lost any sense of embarrassment he may have felt – she was confident, assured in her nakedness in the same way someone like Roger might feel in his favourite trousers and fur coat. 

Similar to Brian’s, the woman’s hair fell in thick, tightly wound curls, though hers was as dark as midnight, and ended at her elbows. Her lips, full and glossed with starlight, curved up at the corners in a shy smile. 

“You heard me,” she murmured happily, coming to a halt a few meters from him. The air escaped from Brian’s lungs in a gentle sigh; this was the most radiant creature he’d ever laid eyes upon. 

“What are you?” he asked, mesmerized. 

“What?” she smirked, looking up at him beneath hooded eyelids, her lashes longer than any he’d ever seen. “Or who?” 

“You’re not…” he hesitated, taking a cautious step back. _Human,_ he had almost said. She couldn’t be. Her hands and feet looked human enough, and if she’d been wearing anything, she could have passed as an incredibly beautiful woman in the light of day. But here, she carried herself with an air so regal, and with such ephemeral grace, that she could be nothing but a faery – some sort of woodland spirit, maybe. 

“Why are you so warm, Brian?” the woman asked, tilting her head to the side curiously. She reached a hand out toward Brian’s face and brushed the tips of her fingers against his cheeks. A tingle ran down his spine, as though she’d had some sort of magic in her touch. “Ah,” she smiled, glancing down at herself. “My apologies. I forget sometimes that humans insist on such modest dress.” 

“How do you know my name?” he whispered, bringing his hand up to grasp his cheek where her fingers had grazed his skin. His cheeks were cool, and the blush that had crept up his neck and into his face when he first caught sight of her was gone. She _had_ possessed some sort of magic. As if to challenge his understanding of what else she was capable of, the woman – faery, spirit, whatever she was – let out a tinkling laugh, and lifted her hands above her head. 

Brian’s eyes widened as he watched the forest floor come alive beneath his feet. Leaves and moss became liquid, spilling over his boots and pooling at the feet of the woman before him. Against the laws of gravity, which he’d believed to be true until this very moment, the swirling, shimmering liquid slipped up her body, creating a living dress that covered her as tight as a glove. The gown glittered in the moonlight, reflecting little pearls of green and gold and white onto the trees and the ground. 

“I’m dreaming, aren’t I?” he muttered, shaking his head. He wrapped a curl around one finger and tugged, frowning at the realization that it hurt. Surely you couldn’t feel pain in a dream, could you? 

“Silly man,” the faery chuckled, “of course this isn’t a dream.” Where Brian had been intrigued, beguiled not a minute before, he now felt panicked. 

“I don’t understand,” Brian gasped, taking several steps back. “This isn’t…I shouldn’t be here. Roger will be worried sick. I should have been home hours ago.” The faery’s eyebrows knit together, and she regarded him with concern. 

“Please, don’t go,” she pleaded, reaching out towards him. “I’ve been so lonely. You can’t go now, we’ve only just met.” With a frightened shriek, Brian took off running, barely able to see where he was going. Somehow, he located the path he’d come along earlier in the day, and without turning back, he scrambled down it. Every now and again, he tripped over a root jutting up from the ground, or stumbled on a rock whose distance from his foot he’d misjudged. By the time he reached his car, still parked exactly where he’d left it, he was out of breath, and had tears streaming down his cheeks. Never in his life had he felt more frightened than he did just now. 

He shoved a hand into the front pocket of his trousers and fumbled around for his car keys. Once he’d looped his finger through the key ring, he yanked it out and hurried to slip the key into the lock in the driver’s side door. As soon as he’d pulled the door shut, he slapped a hand over the lock, preventing anything from getting in. The key slid into the ignition, and his beater of a car roared to life. Ignoring Roger’s instruction to always leave the vehicle in neutral for half a minute to give the transmission a chance to get going, he shifted into first and released the emergency break. 

Before he tore off down the road, he chanced one last look towards the tree line. As he’d feared, the dark-eyed faery creature stood watching him from the path, more ethereal now in the full light of the moon than she had been in the dim grove. Streams of moonlight slipped down her cheeks, spilling onto her dress like drops of luminescent paint. She was crying. He’d never seen something so clearly sad, and it almost broke his heart, in spite of the fear racing through his mind. 

“I’m sorry,” he whispered, pressing the gas pedal hard into the floor. He stared straight ahead, not daring to glance in the rearview mirror. 

* * * * * 

The following day, Roger made no comment about his late-night return to their flat, and Brian mentioned nothing about the events of the night before. By mid-morning, he’d thought through every possible explanation for what he’d seen, scribbling them down on the back of a paper grocery bag while waiting for John to record some bass lines over the guitar work Brian had done the day prior. 

1\. It was all a dream, and I just forgot how I made it home – maybe had a lot to drink when I arrived? 

2\. Someone spiked my tea with LSD as a joke and just hasn’t said anything yet. 

3\. I was abducted by aliens and my memory has been altered to prevent me from revealing the existence of said aliens. 

4\. I’ve gone mad, and should see a psychiatrist immediately. 

None of these seemed the least bit plausible, which was disheartening. The scientist in Brian wanted everything to have a logical explanation, with evidence to back up any and all claims about a phenomenon. This, however, did not seem to be explainable. 

“Earth to Brian,” Freddie said, waving a hand in front of his curly-haired friend’s face. “Hello, space man. Is anyone in there?” Brian snapped to attention, realizing that he had been asked several questions, but had given no response. 

“Sorry,” he apologized awkwardly, trying to focus on the task at hand. “What’s this now, Fred?” Roger and John, who had finished in the booth, exchanged a concerned glance. 

“Everything alright, Bri?” John wondered. “Have you been having a hard time sleeping again? Because my mum swears by this mixture of honey and–” 

“No, no, Deacs,” Brian shook his head, “I’m perfectly fine. Just off in my own world, I suppose.” This wasn’t a complete lie, nor was it an uncommon occurrence. The boys just found it odd that Brian wasn’t eager to get working on his own song. 

“Well, then,” Freddie shrugged, putting a hand on Brian’s shoulder, “let’s hear what you’ve got for us today, then, shall we?” Brian pasted a smile onto his face, and reached for his knapsack to grab his notebook. When his hand hit the bottom without feeling the smooth leather of his notebook, Brian felt a wave of panic rush over him. 

“Shit,” he exclaimed, ripping the zipper of his bag down. “I can’t have lost it.” He searched through all the pockets, shuffled through stacks of paper that sat atop the piano, to no avail; it was missing. 

“Where did you last have it?” Roger asked, trying to be helpful. “I don’t remember seeing it at the flat this morning. You’ve usually got it glued to your hand.” A sinking feeling settled into Brian’s chest as he realized he must have dropped it the night before. It was probably sitting exactly where he’d put it, at the base of the oak tree he’d napped against. 

“I guess…I’ll have to retrace my steps later,” Brian sighed, hanging his head. “I’m so stupid.” 

“No, of course you aren’t,” Freddie soothed. “But…everything was in that book, wasn’t it? All the things you’ve been working on.” Brian almost nodded, but caught himself as the images of the woman he’d met in the woods last night flashed through his memory. He’d never see something so beautiful again, he was sure of it. And despite the fear he’d felt in that moment, the heart-pounding, mind-numbing fear, he’d also felt a spark of something else on the drive home. 

“Not…not everything,” he frowned. “Take a break for a few minutes, boys. I’ve got something I’ve been playing with, and I think if I can just tinker with it a moment or two longer, we can make it work.” His bandmates, eager for a spot of tea anyways, agreed to leave Brian to his devices. 

“Brian, can I get you anything?” John inquired on his way out the door. 

“Tea, no cream or sugar, thanks,” Brian requested. Before he could leave, though, Brian called after him. “Oi, John?” 

“Hmm?” the bassist mumbled, raising an eyebrow. 

“You didn’t, umm…put anything, you know… _odd_ , in the tea yesterday, did you?” Brian asked, grimacing. 

“Odd?” John’s eyes narrowed suspiciously. “Such as?” 

“LSD?” Brian suggested. John stared at him for half a minute, not daring to speak. 

“No, I didn’t put any LSD in the tea,” he said slowly. “But seriously, Brian, when I couldn’t sleep, my mum used to put honey and garlic, plus a bit of chives into a—” 

“For god’s sake, John,” Brian shouted, standing up and waving the boy out of the box, “I don’t need your mum’s witchy Leicestershire concoction to help me sleep. I’d have to be bloody well dying before I’d try it. Just go get the damned tea and give me a minute to think.” He collapsed in his seat and pulled his guitar into his lap, clutching the neck of it in his hand as a sort of comfort. 

When he’d given himself a moment to recover from the embarrassment of his encounter with John, he began to pluck at the strings, working through the melody he’d woven in his head over the last few days. Without realizing he was doing it, Brian began to sing along, adjusting a word here or there when he felt something wasn’t fitting quite right. He wasn’t sure how much time had passed between when he started, and when he felt pleased with what he’d created, but when he finally looked up, his friends stood at the door, clutching their teacups in their hands. 

“Now what on earth was that?” Freddie asked, “It’s brilliant, Brian. Haunting, but brilliant. What do you call it?” 

“Well, I thought for a moment that it should be called ‘Black Queen,’” Brian hummed, remembering the faery creature that had inspired his lyrics, “but we’ve already got a song with that in the title. So I suppose we can go with, ‘White Queen, or something like that, to keep on the theme of black and white, opposites and such, for the album.” 

“I like it,” Roger stated, sipping at his tea with a loud slurp. John bobbed his head in solidarity, still watching Brian carefully after the odd question he’d asked earlier. Something just seemed off with the man today, and John couldn’t quite put a finger on what it could be. 

Brian stepped into the recording booth, cradling Red against his chest as if she were much more fragile than she was. After plugging in his patch cord, Brian fiddled about with his tuning, and set to work laying down a track for the others to work off of. All the while, his mind wandered back to the forest grove, and the lovely yet frightening thing he’d encountered there. As much as he wished it to be a dream, he realized that it must have been real. John wasn’t one to lie about tea-related matters, and Brian didn’t really believe in aliens enough to use it as an explanation for his strange experience. 

“Alright then, Fred,” Brian called out, finally ready to record his vocals. “White Queen (As It Began), take one!”

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading, folks! Stay tuned for updates to my regular WIPs.


End file.
